


whatever stirs this mortal frame

by Kt_fairy



Series: let the river rush in [14]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, James Fitzjames in a corset, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, love and smut, rated e for victorian knickers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: “Did you think you were dreaming?” James’s voice was pitched for teasing as he leant back, hand resting on the narrow waist of his soft white satin corset. “When you woke up and found me hardly dressed?”“No," Francis said, all innocence. "You’d have been in the bed with me if that were the case.”ORWho need's coffee or alarm clocks to wake you up, when you have James Fitzjames in his underthings.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Series: let the river rush in [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1458220
Comments: 31
Kudos: 74





	whatever stirs this mortal frame

**Author's Note:**

> MsKingBean89 alerted me to the existence of [Open Drawers](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open_drawers), and I am but human. So here we are.
> 
> A million thanks to her for the inspiration, controlling my overuse of 'heavy', clarifying my positioning's, and being a babe. <3<3
> 
> (I have put this as part of the series, but it can be read alone)

A gentle wave of summer rain falling insistently against the window eased Francis in to wakefulness.

Summers in London were hardly tolerable unless it rained. The cloudless heat so weighty and humid, turning the polluted city atmosphere thick and airless; scattering those who could afford to the sea (they had already visited the Coningham’s in Brighton) or the country (and the Ross’ in Oxfordshire), and made it impossible to concentrate or _do_ anything, even get a decent night's sleep. At least, that was the case for sullen old sea captains. 

The rain that rolled in on a brisk morning breeze had been a blessed relief; the same sense of finally being able to breathe freely that came with ice falling away from the hull of a ship. It trampled the humidity, leaving everything fresh and cool, which Francis made the most of by taking a nap - as over the past few days he had become a very sullen, tired old sea captain.

Francis was loath to stir and rise from the bed. Content to lay around for a minute or five as his body was weighty with sleep; the counterpane perfectly warm beneath him, and the feather pillow soft against his cheek as it supported his rather cloudy head.

There was some rustling from the other side of the room, not quite loud enough to disturb, yet not quiet enough to ignore - which Francis tried to do, until curiosity dragged him further into wakefulness by forcing him to open his eyes. There was no fire in the grate, so there was only the dull daylight slanting sluggishly across the room, and the lamp set on the floor, to light the figure kneeling in front of an open draw of Francis’ dresser.

His mind was still fogged with sleep as he looked them over - stockinged feet crossed at the ankles, soft silk dressing gown draping loosely over the graceful sweep of their back and slipping off the smooth skin of a shoulder - and it took a moment for Francis to fully realise that it was James rooting around in his draws.

“What are you doing?” Francis rasped.

James glanced over at him, flicking his hair out of his eyes as he sat back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs. “You will arch that brow of yours at me, but I was looking for my brown paisley necktie, and it's not anywhere in my room.”

Francis blinked at the lace strap of the chemise against James' collarbone, and did indeed raise an eyebrow as he propped his head up on his elbow, shirt pulling over his shoulders. “You need that right this instant?”

“Obviously not _right_ this instant, no,” James huffed as he rolled onto his feet in one smooth movement, picking up the lamp after brushing off his knees. His dressing gown was untied, and fell open over the elegant planes and architectural curves of his soft white satin corset as James placed his hand on the narrowest part of his waist. "But I could not think where it was, and if I do not look for it then I shall know no peace."

Francis grunted as he pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, twisting just enough to stretch the heaviness of sleep from his back. "It could not wait until you had dressed?”

"It seems not,” James said as he came to stand by the bed, setting the lamp down on the bedside table. “I did not think I would wake you,” he cocked his head just so as he smiled gently down at Francis, a glint in his dark eyes. “But if I did, I did not think you would mind such flagrant indecency.”

“Can’t say as I do,” Francis agreed, linking his fingers as he stretched his arms out in front of him. He let his hands fall into his lap at a gentle touch to his chin, obediently tipping his head back so James could bend down and kiss him lightly. It was more of a brush of lips than anything, soft and fleeting, and more than enough to rid the last, hazy vestiges of sleep from his mind. 

“Did you think you were dreaming?” James’s voice was pitched for teasing as he leant back, hand resting lightly on the headboard above Francis’ shoulder. “When you woke up and found me hardly dressed?”

“No," Francis said, all innocence. "You’d have been in the bed with me if that were the case.”

James snorted as Francis grinned. He reached out to rest his hand on the inside of James’ knee, stroking his leg through the skin warm linen of his drawers. It was a touch without much intent - being so free with James’ person often felt like a luxury only mellow contentment would dare indulge in - but James did not tut or step away, so Francis moved his hand higher. 

And higher still, watching the way James’ eyes became impossibly darker as he came to the open seam in the crotch of the drawers. James shifted his legs apart just enough for Francis to slip his fingers inside to stroke the soft skin of his inner thigh, then, Francis flushing as the thought came to him, daringly higher to brush the blood hot, smooth skin behind his balls.

James tensed, pink blossoming from his chest all the way up his neck as he grasped Francis’ sleeve, neither pulling him away nor pushing his hand further between his legs.

He was no shrinking violet, James. If he wanted a thing he made it clear, and more often than not Francis was happy to facilitate; which had often been the pattern when Francis found himself with a lover. A liberty like this would either be allowed for a moment, then put a stop to, or he would be hurried along (Sophia would have threaded her dainty fingers into his hair by now, to pull him where she wanted). But James was all indulgence when it came to Francis. His hand was a warm weight when he curled his fingers into the rumpled collar of Francis's shirt, a soft little noise escaping his mouth when Francis stroked his thighs and his belly, and the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

“You _can_ get in the bed, if you like,” Francis murmured when his fingers found James' prick laying hot and heavy against his thigh, feeling it fill further as he rolled the foreskin back and forth over the head.

“If I _like_ ,” James tutted, the metal clasps of the busk catching what light there was when his breath hitched. “What if I wa - want you to frig me while I stand here like a lemon?”

“I would," Francis said, adjusting himself as touching James began to take effect. "But that does not sound nearly as fun.”

James hummed, reaching down to give Francis' hardening cock a quick squeeze through his trousers. “Just wat a fine gentl’man like yurself wants after a restor’ive sleep,” he drawled like Plymouth doxie, perching his knee on the edge of the bed as he swung his other leg over Francis’ thighs in one smooth motion. 

“Lil’ bit a fun, set yer up right fer the day.”

“What a - _James_ ,” Francis couldn’t help smiling, sitting up straighter before he pulled James down to settle in his lap. 

“I suppose my clothes are a little too nice for that,” James mused, passing his fingers through Francis’ hair. “I shall just have to be as I am.”

“Which is more than enough for me to be dealing with,” Francis huffed, the silk of James’ dressing gown soft over the boning of the corset as he grasped James by the waist. James had explained to him how the heat of a body softened the whalebone to the wearer’s shape, making the corset more supportive than restrictive, so Francis felt like less of a terrible old lech when he fit his hands to the exaggerated slenderness of his waist.

“I shall take that as a compliment, seeing as you invited _me_ into _your_ bed,” James smiled, smoothing his thumb over the stubble on Francis’ jaw as he ducked his head to kiss him. 

Francis slipped his hand beneath the dressing gown, running his fingers over the loose lacing of the corset while James deftly undid the buttons of Francis’ shirt. James pushed his fingers beneath the linen, running them through the hair on Francis’ chest and up over his shoulder to curl around the back of his neck. 

Francis let James pull him closer a moment, stroking over the soft chemise between the corset laces, then pulling away. He ignored the murmur of protest that stuck in James’ throat when Francis turned his attention to the elegant sweep of his shoulder, the noise coming out as a shuddering sigh when Francis scraped his teeth over the point where James’ pulse quietly thrummed under his unmarked skin. Francis muffling a groan against the same spot when James got his trousers undone and shirt pushed out of the way, grasping his prick as it bobbed free.

It did not take a lot of fumbling around between them for Francis to get his hand on James, the open drawers barely containing him as he was so prick-forward. He was long and hot in Francis' palm, curving in a way that Francis had never thought might be pleasing until he had the luxury of James' unhurried attention. 

James dragged him into a kiss, long fingers flexing around his prick as he pushed into the way Francis was frigging him. Yet all Francis could think about was how it would be more pleasing to have James in his mouth. 

Francis tucked his fingers under James’ thigh and encouraged him up. James resisted a moment, fingers pressing into the back of Francis’ neck, giving his prick one more tug before sitting back with a groan. 

The pillows were cast aside so Francis could sit properly while James settled up on his knees with a faint rustle of fabric. He rather loomed over Francis, trapping him between his hips and the headboard, all long limbs and supple strength that Francis had always admired. James pushed his hair back out of his overly bright eyes, uneven teeth pressing into his pink bottom lip when Francis squeezed the base of his proud, leaking prick. 

“ _Ah_.” James curled his fingers into the shoulder of Francis’ shirt when he kissed just below the head. He sucked in a sharp breath when Francis licked the thin, tasteless stuff away from the tip, then let it out in a ragged sigh as he set his mouth around him.

This was a new desire still, to _want_ the heavy heat of James in his mouth. He had never shrunk from the act, not when James did it for him without shame and with great enjoyment. Which Francis understood, now he was discovering what had James sighing and twitching, and had found the concordant pattern of mouth and hand that made James grasp the back of his neck or pass his fingers into his hair; encouraging rather than doing a lot of masculine pushing. Taking a flattering amount of pleasure in it, despite Francis knowing how unskilled he was.

He placed his hand on James' thigh, encouraging James to lean closer, swallowing gracelessly around the head when James let out a breathless noise. The weight of his cock, and the taste of the smooth skin that slid over Francis’ tongue, always had this act being a somewhat messy business before James had even arrived at his end. Spit soaked Francis’ hand, as well as the pristine Irish linen of his shirt cuff and James' underthings; but at least James enjoyed the way saliva slicked the way, and the lewd, wet noises that filled the room alongside his pants and gasps.

Francis switched the hand twisting over the root of James' cock, reaching wet fingers into the back of the his drawers. James gasped, setting his knee's further apart when Francis stroked over his entrance, fingers curling and pulling at his hair when Francis breached him.

"That's _-_ _Aah_ ," James moaned, bearing back against Francis’ fingers, hips jerking forward before he got a hold of himself. He shook for a moment as Francis worked him - twisting his hand over the base of James' prick in the same rhythm as he moved his fingers inside of his, mouth still attending to the head of his cock. 

He glanced up at James who had his chin tucked into his chest, gasping through his red, bitten lips, eyes closed and hair falling about his glowing cheeks in untidy waves, his brow creasing and smoothing with every gentle roll of his hips. He was a picture of pleasure and restraint, and Francis shifted his legs against the counterpane as his own neglected prick twitched against his stomach. 

The movement seemed to startle James; he hardly ever cursed, but made an oath under his breath as his eyes flicked open. Francis flushed at being observed, breaking the bubble of boldness that came when one went unnoticed, but James moved quicker than his cringe of embarrassment. He slipped out from Francis’ mouth as he dropped down into his lap once more, running his thumb slowly along Francis’ sensitive bottom lip before taking his face in warm hands and kissing him, open-mouthed and greedy. 

The dressing gown had slipped off his shoulders, catching around his elbows. Francis ran his palm up the soft, lily white skin of his arm, tracing the smooth line of his collarbone as he pushed his fingers deeper inside of James, causing him to gasp. 

“My dear,” James said as he leant their foreheads together, breath warm against Francis’ damp face. 

“Yes?”

“You have rather escalated things,” a smile was clear in James’ voice as he gave Francis’ cock a tug, smacking a playful kiss to Francis’ cheek before leaning over to root around in Francis’ bedside table.

Francis pulled his fingers from James once he had retrieved the bottle, wiping his hands on his shirt. James threw off the dressing gown, tossing his hair back with all that careless dash of his, despite looking shockingly indecent with his red, wet cock curving up towards his corseted belly from beneath his rucked up chemise and neat, white drawers. Only to become more obscene when he dripped oil onto Francis’ cock, rubbing it into the heated skin, and kissing the moan from Francis’ mouth.

Francis eased himself down the bed a little when James raised himself up on his knees. He grasped a pert buttock in one hand, pulling the leg of the drawers out of the way when James positioned his cock, before sinking down in one easy motion. 

It was not a race to their ends, more the purposeful economy that came with having settled into just how good this could be for the other.

Francis gripped James’ prick still, directing it towards his shirt so it would not ruin the satin of the corset that hardly seemed to restrict James’ enthusiasm. Francis let him rock into his fist as James rolled his hips on Francis’ prick; so hot and tight around him that Francis could not help the noises hissed out between his teeth. 

The lace straps of the chemise had dropped down James’ shoulders that were flushed with exertion. Francis wished he could reach to lay kisses there, feeling the sticky pool of heat in his gut pull tight as he teetered on the edge. 

“Don’t,” James all but ordered when Francis squeezed his hip, dropping forward as much as he could to brace his hand against Francis’ chest. “Nearly,” he ground out, moving with more purpose, “ _don’t_ ”, and Francis kept himself at bay, digging his heels into the bed to stop himself becoming unmoored by the sight and the feeling of James chasing his pleasure. 

They shuddered into their releases one after the other; Francis frigging James as he spent over his shirt, James digging his nails into Francis’ chest when he bucked his hips, fucking up into into the tight clench of his body as he spilled inside him.

Panting filled the room once they were done. Francis wiped his hand on his shirt again before letting his arm drop to the bed, feeling loose limbed and languid. He watched James from under his lashes while he remained half bent over Francis, his chest rising against the scant padding in the corset. 

Francis pushed James’ unruly hair back off his heated face. He quirked a smile when James looked at him, obediently turning his wrist when James gently cupped the back of his hand to press a kiss to the middle of his palm. 

“That certainly woke me up,” Francis rasped, smiling when James grinned. “I might need another doze.”

“And I might have need to join you,” James said, kissing Francis’ palm once more before gingerly rising up off Francis’ softening cock. He held himself awkwardly a moment, no doubt considering the warm trickle of spend on his thighs and if he needed to hurry from the bed, before tucking himself away and pitching sideways to lay down, settling his head on Francis’ thrown out arm. 

“Well,” James sighed, wiping his forehead on the back of his wrist. “I have completely lost control of this afternoon.”

Francis laughed to himself, brushing his fingertips over James’ elbow. “You do still need to find that cravat.”

“Oh, devil take you Francis Crozier,” James grumbled, striking his chest with the back of his hand. “I will have to get up now and look for it. I am haunted by that damned thing!”

James tried to get up, long legs flailing comically when Francis would not let him. His protests were ruined by his smile as he struggled against Francis’ hold, finally falling still when Francis bent over him; cupping his flushed, lovely face to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a [ whole article about Victorian underwear](http://www.katetattersall.com/early-victorian-undergarments-part-4-pantelettes-pantalettes/), because why not.
> 
> I also watched both parts of this[ series on making a Victorian corset ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWzXDuwrAgQ) (even if it is a little later for circa.1850) for 'research', and found it very interesting. So those interested, I recommend.


End file.
